


speechless and amazed (we grope through languages and hesitate)

by itsahockeynight



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: BDSM elements, Friends With Benefits To Lovers, M/M, Praise Kink, Subspace, Under-negotiated Kink, not sure what to tag sorry, sub/dom elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-25
Updated: 2018-08-25
Packaged: 2019-07-02 07:23:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15791766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsahockeynight/pseuds/itsahockeynight
Summary: Nicky reaches out, hesitates, touches Sasha’s shoulder, and Sasha goes down so fast he probably bruises his knees on the thin hotel carpet. Please. Please.





	speechless and amazed (we grope through languages and hesitate)

**Author's Note:**

> \- if you’re in any way associated with the NHL or any of the players mentioned above, please close this tab  
>  \- Thanks to the hockeysticks chat for helping me with the title for this one! It’s from “Villanelle for D.G.B” by Marilyn Hacker  
>  \- Unbetaed and generally a bit rough around the edges – you know when you just have to get something out of your head? Yeah, this.

When they lose, when they lose badly, he goes out. There are places he knows, in most hockey cities, where he can get a few strong drinks and find a guy bigger than him who’ll fuck Sasha hard in a shitty bathroom and not ask questions. It burns the shakes out of him, makes him feel used, and it helps most of the time – at least when he can’t score, when he can’t drag the whole team out of a hole himself, he’s still good at something. Sometimes it doesn’t help, and Sasha goes home or back to the hotel to cry angry, silent tears into his pillow and wish he was anywhere, anyone else.

They get shut out in Ottawa. They’ve been shut out before, and he’s survived. They’ve lost close, good games and he’s been a mess. He’s a mess tonight. Sasha couldn’t find the fucking net, felt like his skates were just sinking into the ice. The feeling carries over, through press, then while he says encouraging things to the guys who played better than him. He has to keep himself together – he’s the captain, he can’t just lie down on the floor and stay there until he falls asleep. Nicky gives him a worried look after the press leave, but Sasha avoids him. He doesn’t want to talk. He feels hollow and awful.

He changes into sweats and a t-shirt when he gets back to the hotel but then only makes it out into the hallway before his brain grinds to a halt. He needs to go, he needs. He’s shaking. God help him, he doesn’t know what to do. He meant to go out, just to find someone to fuck him, but there are too many steps in accomplishing that, and he can’t think right now. It’s not usually this bad this fast, fuck.

He knocks on Nicky’s door instead.

Nicky stares at him for a long time before letting him in, but he lets him in without asking any questions. Sasha’s so relieved he could cry. He doesn’t know what he wants, or how to ask for what he needs, but Nicky always knows. Sasha needs Nicky to think for him right now, or he’s going to shake apart. Please.

Nicky closes the door, still looking at him. He reaches out, hesitates, touches Sasha’s shoulder, and Sasha goes down so fast he probably bruises his knees on the thin hotel carpet. Above him Nicky breathes “shit,” and Sasha leans his head on Nicky’s hip. Please. Please.

“Alex, look at me.” Sasha raises his head. Nicky looks calm. Nicky is half hard. Nicky touches the corner of Sasha’s mouth and Sasha opens it automatically, lets Nicky shove two fingers inside, not gentle at all. Oh. His dick twitches hard.

“Can you be quiet?” He nods. He can do whatever Nicky wants. He wants to be good. “Alex, I need you to say it.”

“Yes,” he manages around Nicky’s fingers, and Nicky nods, looking pleased. Sasha gets a heady, strange rush. He’s pleased Nicky. That’s, that’s good. Oh.

Nicky takes his fingers out of Sasha’s mouth and grabs his hair instead, hard. It runs through him like electricity. The room falls away. Nicky’s hard. “Get me off. Don’t make any noise.”

Relief washes over him. He can do that. Sasha reaches out with a shaky hand and frees Nicky’s dick from his sweats. He’s not wearing any underwear. He tastes like sweat. Sasha closes his eyes.

It’s easy to take Nicky deep. It’s easy to forget everything but Nicky’s dick and his own mouth. It’s easy to open his mouth more, take all of Nicky when he starts rocking into Sasha’s mouth, slowly at first, then faster, harder. It hurts. It feels good.

“Ovi, fuck. You – that’s good.” Sasha nearly groans before he remembers his orders. “Fuck, that’s so. You – do so well.” The praise washes over him, makes him feel like he could float away. He’s making Nicky feel good.

“I – _Alex_.” Nicky comes suddenly, and Sasha nearly chokes, but he manages to swallow most of it. Oh. Nicky slips his dick out and Sasha wants to weep at the loss. He feels. He doesn’t know. It feels good. Nicky touches his chin, catching the come Sasha couldn’t swallow and putting his thumb back in Sasha’s mouth to be sucked clean. “Thank you,” he says, and Sasha’s whole body sings. “That was perfect. Can you do one more thing for me?” Sasha leans into his hand. Anything. “Come for me.”

Sasha can barely feel his own body, has no idea how long he’s been hard. His sweats are soaked with pre-come. He sticks one hand inside and grips his dick. It only takes two strokes for him to spill into his hand. Nicky murmurs, “perfect, Alex, well done,” and Sasha sways.

Everything is blurry and soft around the edges. Sasha feels lighter than air. He’s done something right tonight. He’s made Nicky feel good. He lets himself be pulled to his feet and guided across the room. The backs of his knees hit a bed and he goes down gently, sinking into the mattress and closing his eyes. There’s a hand in his hair, stroking, and Sasha feels like he’s falling down a deep dark well. He lets go.

***

After that, Sasha stops hooking up after bad road games. He just trails Nicky back to his hotel room and lets Nicky fuck his mouth until he feels dazed and floaty and he can sleep. Nicky always lets Sasha sleep in his room after, probably realising Sasha is never really with it after he comes like that. He would probably just fall asleep standing up in the hallway otherwise.

He always seems to know what Sasha needs. Nicky fucks his face, Nicky bosses him around, Nicky holds him down, makes him stay still, stay silent. The relief that comes from not having to be in charge for a bit is enormous. He doesn’t have to decide what to do with his hands, his mouth. Nicky will tell him what to do, Nicky will hurt him a bit if he thinks Sasha deserves it, and Sasha doesn’t have to decide that, either. He always gets Sasha off by the end of it, even though Sasha doesn’t really need it. If Nicky wants him to come, he does. That’s what he’s here for.

They never do it after home games. Something about it seems more suited to anonymous hotel rooms, for needing to be quiet. Doing it at home, in one of their own houses, would make it too real. After bad home games Sasha still goes out and lets himself be fucked, be used, but it never helps as much as Nicky does.

Sasha’s not really sure what Nicky gets out of it, but he never turns Sasha away. Most of the nights Sasha can feel control slipping through his fingers like sand seem to coincide with the nights Nicky is most angry after losses, but if that has anything to do with it, he can’t tell. He seems a little softer after, once Sasha has got him off, but that could just be the sex. Sasha feels bad about being selfish, needing it so much more than Nicky, but not bad enough to stop. Certainly not bad enough to talk about it.

***

They lose to the fucking Penguins again. They lose, they get shut out on home ice, and Sasha wants to curl into a ball and die, he’s so ashamed. There’s a lump of ice in his chest, burning his insides. They’re never going to be able to do it. He should ask Coach to take the C off him. He doesn’t deserve it.

He nearly, nearly follows Nicky home that night. Sasha wants so badly to kneel, to let Nicky take everything from him, but his knee’s so fucked he doesn’t think he could do it. Maybe he should anyway, fight through the pain one more time so he can at least do one thing fucking right in his life.

But they’re at home. They never do it at home. Sasha has no idea what Nicky does after bad home losses, and he can’t ask, not now when everything is so shit. If Nicky says no, it might kill him. He goes home and drinks until he passed out instead. It doesn’t help at all.

Nicky leaves for Worlds without saying goodbye.

***

He’s not sure they’re going to keep doing it the next season. So much has changed. Sometimes Nicky radiates anger so strongly even Sasha is scared to go near him, and coming into this season he can tell it’s going to be bad. He tries – Nicky’s his friend, of course he tries, and anyway, the kids expect him to know what’s going on. Sasha doesn’t tell any of them that he’s never actually been able to read Nicky’s mind, off the ice at least. He knows him very, very well, but he never quite knows what he’s thinking.

Their first bad loss of the year comes early, against the fucking Flyers, because of course it is. Sasha’s ice time is right down, and he feels sick by the time they get back to the hotel. He doesn’t even go get changed first, follows Nicky’s tense shoulders straight out of the silent elevator to his room. Nicky doesn’t say anything, just reaches behind his back to grab Sasha’s wrist and drag him inside. Oh, thank God.

He needs it, he needs it so badly, and Nicky takes what he wants, shoves Sasha to his knees a few steps inside. “Don’t move.” He fucks Sasha’s face, quiet at first. He starts talking as his hips snap harder, whispering encouragement until Sasha’s brain slows and everything blurs around the edges. Nicky comes and Sasha wants to slump against him, fading, sinking down. He’s not allowed to move. Lips press against his forehead and Nicky murmurs “thank you.” Oh. Sasha’s head swims with relief. He moans while Nicky jerks him off, nearly asleep already. Nicky holds him up, tells Sasha _thank you_ again when he comes. It’s going to be okay. Nicky has him, Nicky’s pleased with him. Okay.

***

After that Sasha doesn’t doubt Nicky anymore. They continue as they did last year, as if the summer never happened. When Sasha needs it Nicky lets him in, keeps taking just enough to make Sasha feel halfway human again.

They also continue the tradition of not talking about it. It’s easier that way – if Sasha has to think too hard about why he needs it, why it has to be Nicky, he’ll… He doesn’t know what he’ll do. He’s much happier not knowing, really.

***

They can’t be knocked out in the first round. They _can’t_. Sasha’s not – he’s not fucking _resigned_ to it, he believes in his fucking team, but he _is_ terrified. Fuck what he says to the reporters – everything’s cracking, splintering. He won’t know what to do with himself, if they go out now.

Nicky slams his gear around in the room after the game. Sasha exhales slowly. The pressure in the back of his head is growing, and watching Nicky’s badly contained rage seems to make it worse. Theirs is a strange, symbiotic relationship, feeding off each other’s pain as much as they’re helping each other. Right now he wants Nicky to hurt him, to wipe the last two games completely out of his mind. By the time they’re free to go home he feels vaguely nauseous. He leans against the door of his car, trying to breathe. The idea of a stranger, someone who doesn’t know anything about him, touching him right now makes him shake in completely the wrong way.

He needs Nicky. He needs, he needs… fuck. He probably shouldn’t be driving right now.

He gives the cab driver Nicky’s address without even thinking. He knows the gate code. He has Nicky’s spare key, for emergencies. This isn’t an emergency. It could be.

Nicky hears him come in. Nicky’s in his kitchen, Sasha can see him from the other end of the hallway, silhouetted in the half-light. He doesn’t say anything, not until Sasha reaches the threshold and teeters there, not sure what to do. He’s not really thinking, just a body and a swirl of emotions. He needs.

“Come here.” Sasha stumbles over to him and lets Nicky cradle his head in his hands. He’s going to cry. Nicky touches his hair, his face so carefully Sasha wants to scream. He doesn’t want careful. Nicky was so angry an hour ago. He wants that. He wants Nicky to make everything stop.

He folds himself to his knees in between Nicky and his kitchen counter, trapping himself. It feels better than standing. Nicky makes a strange noise in his throat and leans forward, bracing himself on the counter as Sasha undoes his fly and gets his dick out. He’s only half hard, so Sasha sucks the tip carefully, listening to Nicky panting. He’s usually talking by now, telling Sasha what to do, or already telling him if he’s doing it right. Sasha’s hands are shaking by the time Nicky’s all the way hard. He doesn’t know what to do.

Nicky shoves his dick into Sasha’s mouth all of a sudden, pinning Sasha’s head to the cupboard door. That’s, that’s more like it, oh shit. He fucks Sasha’s mouth without mercy. Sasha’s eyes water and his throat aches, but he takes it, trying to be good, lets his head thump back and closes his eyes. It feels wrong, Nicky’s so _quiet_ , grunting and panting but not saying anything. Sasha’s crying for real now. He needs more than this. He needs Nicky, he needs. Oh God.

Nicky comes without a fucking word. Sasha swallows him down and slumps. He can’t. He’s drowning. He can’t do this.

“Alex.” He cracks one eye open. Nicky is kneeling in front of him. He looks devastated, and Sasha doesn’t know what he did wrong. Nicky touches his face again, brushes away a tear. Sasha closes his eyes. Please. “Can you stand up?” He nods shakily. “Come on.”

Nicky helps him to his feet and starts guiding him, walking out of the kitchen and upstairs. Sasha doesn’t know what’s going on anymore. He can’t stop crying. He doesn’t understand.

Nicky takes him into his bedroom. Sasha doesn’t think he’s ever been in here before. He lets himself be pushed down onto the bed. He’s too fucking tired and too wide awake for this. His head hurts. He leans into Nicky’s chest.

“I’m sorry.” Nicky curls around him. “I’m sorry, you – you did well, Alex. I should have said.” Sasha feels tears coming again, this time out of relief. He did something right. Nicky’s shaking against him. Sasha has never felt that before. “Alex, I need, can I –” He’s unbuttoning Sasha’s shirt.

Sasha gasps “please, please,” without knowing what he’s agreeing to. He needs Nicky to touch him.

Nicky strips him naked. He’s so gentle Sasha thinks he might crack apart. He needs more than this. Then Nicky stops touching him altogether and Sasha freezes. No, no –

“Alex.” Nicky always says his name like it means something more. “Can. Can you kneel in the middle of the bed please?” He scrambles to obey, something unlocking in his chest. It’s a relief, such a relief to have orders.

Time’s slipping past him unevenly. Eventually Nicky comes back. He stays behind Sasha, touching his back. Sasha thinks he’s naked. Oh God, help. “I want to fuck you.” Sasha gasps, bows his head. “Is that okay? I need you to tell me the truth.”

“Yeah.” He’s never even considered this before. His skin feels like it’s buzzing. “Nicky, please. Please.”

Nicky presses his forehead to the back of Sasha’s neck. “Thank you,” he whispers, and Sasha feels like he could melt.

He lets Nicky push him forwards onto his elbows. He’s so gentle. He touches Sasha’s entrance and Sasha shudders, abruptly, perfectly overstimulated. Nicky murmurs praise into his skin as he opens him up, and that’s the only thing grounding Sasha, keeping him from floating away. Oh. Oh.

Nicky’s in him, Nicky’s _inside_ – fuck, it feels so good.

Nicky puts an arm around him and hauls Sasha back into his lap. “Fuck, baby.” He’s shaking. Sasha gropes for his hand, squeezes it tight. “Alex, can you, can you feel that?” His dick brushes Sasha’s prostate. “I’m so hard, I’m so easy for you.” Sasha is going to fucking explode.

“Nicky, please, _please_.”

Nicky’s lips brush his ear. “Tell me what you want.”

“Fuck – oh, oh.” He’s not fucking _moving_. Sasha is going to shake out of his skin. “Fuck me, you have to, please.”

“Yeah?”

“Please, I need, want to be good for you.” He’s never said it out loud before.

“Oh,” says Nicky, sounding amazed. “ _Oh_.” And with that he tips them forward and nearly crushes Sasha’s face into the pillow. He moves, oh fuck, finally. “Alex, Alex,” a deep thrust Sasha can feel through his whole body, “you feel so good, fuck, that’s –” Sasha makes an involuntary, inhuman noise. He’s good, he’s, Nicky thinks… “– fuck, fucking amazing, baby, I want...” He pants into Sasha’s shoulder, hips moving minutely now. “You’re gonna make me come again, shit.”

Every thrust sends sparks through Sasha’s bloodstream. Nicky feels amazing inside him, God. Sasha wants him to feel it too, to know what he’s doing to him. Sasha can – Nicky wants to come, Sasha can do that. He rocks back in time with Nicky’s thrusts and clenches around him. Nicky moans aloud, so Sasha does it again.

“ _Alex_.” Fuck, he sounds so, so – “That’s good, _oh_.” Sasha shivers to his core. He braces with one arm and reaches behind himself again, fumbling around until he finds Nicky’s hand on his hip. He intertwines their fingers and Nicky shudders, squeezing his hand, burying his face in the crook of Sasha’s neck and coming with a gasp. Sasha slumps under his weight, overcome. Coherent thought escapes him. All he knows is Nicky, all he feels is Nicky.

Nicky pulls out. He pets Sasha’s hair, touches his skin with reverent hands. Sasha’s coming apart at the seams. Nicky’s murmuring praise again, sweeter than anything Sasha’s ever heard. He was good, Nicky thinks he did well, oh. Nicky’s mouth finds Sasha’s dick and he’s gone. He’s inside the sun, he’s falling through space. Nicky’s hands and mouth are the only things keeping him whole.

He comes back down slowly. Parts of him seem to come awake one at a time – blank, pure bliss slowly giving way to sensation again. He’s curled up on his side, knee starting to cramp up. He’s not sure how much time has passed. Nicky’s tracing soothing circles over his belly, pressing little kisses into his shoulder. His heart is thumping in his ears. Wow, okay. He rolls over onto his back and Nicky moves with him, lying on his side with one hand over Sasha’s heart.

“Was that... okay?”

“ _Nicky_.” Could he really not tell? “Fucking amazing,” Sasha manages, surprised at his own coherence. Usually he’s nearly asleep as soon as he comes.

“Oh good,” says Nicky. Sasha can hear a little smugness sneaking into his voice and feels absurdly fond. He tips his head and kisses him. Nicky makes a surprised noise and curls a hand in his hair, opening his mouth. Their first kiss. It’s perfect.

“Sorry for following home,” he says when they part. It feels important to tell him that, for some reason. “Know that’s not why you gave me key.”

“That’s – that’s fine.” Nicky’s got that intensely blank look on his face that he gets when he’s concentrating hard. “I’d rather you came here than... Normally you don’t, after.” He straightens Sasha’s pendants, smoothing down the chain. “I thought maybe you had someone else in town.”

“What? No!” No one’s better than Nicky, surely he knows that. This, he supposes, is what you get when you don’t talk. Sasha sits up on his elbows, watches Nicky bite his lip and frown. “Thought maybe. I don’t know.” It seems stupid now. “Maybe it’s too much, at home.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“I know.” Nicky blinks at him, then, miracle of miracles, laughs. Sasha joins in, squeezing Nicky’s knee. Nicky puts his hand over Sasha’s. “We never talk about it.”

“Yeah, well.” Nicky smooths Sasha’s chain again. He’s nervous. It occurs to Sasha that Nicky has probably been wondering what they’re doing as long as Sasha has. Nicky doesn’t know what Sasha needs, not really – he’s just made a lot of lucky guesses. He catches Nicky’s wrist.

“Thanks.” He tries to sound as sincere as he feels. “You – it always helps.”

Nicky swallows. “I don’t really understand. Why, I mean.”

Sasha looks him in the eye. “Why do _you_ do it? First time, okay, but why keep doing it?”

“When I’m angry,” Nicky pauses, obviously picking his words with care, “after games, if I’m angry. I have to use it right way, because you need, I mean, it’s like you need me to… I don’t know how to explain.”

Sasha takes his hand again. “I need it rough, little bit,” and Nicky laughs, a little huff.

“I guess, yeah. But I have to take care, too. I have to control it. I don’t know, it just helps.” Sasha kisses his knuckles and Nicky inhales sharply. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“I need to be good.” At the core, that’s what it’s always been about. “When everything’s fucked, if I can, can do something right, can do what you want, maybe I’m gonna be okay.”

Nicky makes a wounded noise and puts his hand in Sasha’s hair. “It’s not always your fault we lose.”

“Sometimes it is.” Nicky knows that. He never shies away from telling Sasha when he does fuck up, and Sasha is grateful for it. “And anyway, brain’s fucking weird, you know. Don’t always make sense.”

Nicky bites his lip again. That’s hot, Sasha thinks, surprised at himself. He’s never noticed that before. “So you like it when I talk.”

“Yeah.” Fuck, that’s probably eighty percent of the appeal. “Before, you’re so quiet I thought –”

“Shit.” Nicky tugs him close. “Sorry, I wasn’t thinking.”

“Didn’t know.”

“Still.” Nicky curls around him like he’s trying to protect Sasha from something. Maybe himself. Sasha’s not going to complain. His nose is tucked right into the hollow of Nicky’s neck, and he breathes in the warm, musky scent. They fit so well together, even here. He puts his arm around Nicky and – and feels Nicky shiver. He slides his hand up Nicky’s back experimentally and Nicky groans and rolls on top of him, pressing Sasha into the mattress. Oh, wait, holy shit.

Something’s caught between them, like kindling suddenly set alight. Sasha’s hot all over, he’s getting hard again. He lifts his hips and Nicky _shudders_. Somehow, somehow he managed to suck Nicky’s dick for over a year without really thinking about him as anything more than a friend, but that, that’s fucking over now, shit. Sasha’s paying attention now. He kisses his way up Nicky’s neck and Nicky tightens one hand in Sasha’s hair, skims over his stomach with the other. It’s barely anything, but it feels amazing. Nicky looks like an angel, strange and terrifying and beautiful. Sasha’s not sure what’s going on here, now, but he doesn’t want it to stop.

Has Nicky always looked like that? Has his skin always been this soft? Have his hands always been so, so –

“I want...” Nicky trails off, staring at his own hand on Sasha’s chest. Sasha reaches for him, tips his head up. Nicky looks as overwhelmed as he feels. He thinks he’s starting to understand.

“Nicky. Tell me.”

“I didn’t think we could do this.”

Neither did Sasha, God. He needs… he needs Nicky to say it. “Do what?

“This.” Nicky does him one better, leans down and kisses him, open mouthed and heated. Sasha grabs at him, pulling him close as he kisses back. It’s never hit him this fast, but Sasha’s been in love before. He knows the feeling.

They’re both panting by the time that kiss ends. Nicky nuzzles at Sasha’s neck, like he can’t bear to stop. Sasha wants. He wants it all.

“When playoffs is over –” Nicky makes a discontented noise and Sasha hushes him. “Hey. When playoffs is over, have dinner with me.” He runs his hand through Nicky’s hair. “Somewhere nice. I get you flowers,” wait, hang on, “or fake ones so you don’t –” He gestures vaguely at Nicky’s nose, which wrinkles up as Nicky considers.

“Like a date?”

There it is. He can’t believe it’s taken them ten years to get here – it seems like it should have been inevitable from the start. “Can be if you want.”

“Okay.” Sasha beams, unable to stop himself. Nicky’s smile is slower, but just as warm. “Yeah, okay, let’s do that, why not?”

Sasha grabs him, rolls them over. He means to make a joke (something about hoping they have to wait a while still), but once they’re pressed together Nicky breathes “ _Alex_ ,” and Sasha just has to kiss him, has to touch him. Has to learn every inch of him, right now, immediately. He’s wasted so much time. Nicky moans and throws back his head when Sasha sucks a nipple experimentally. “Just – just for the record, I – uuh...”

“Yes?” He looks up, smiles as sweetly as he can.

“Oh, _fuck_ you,” Nicky gasps, shoving Sasha over and pinning him down again, and there it is, there’s the Nicky he knows. Sasha’s in love with an asshole, a perfect fucking asshole, oh my God. Nicky’s going to kill him, his fucking mouth – “You, I can’t, can’t –”

“Can’t what?”

Nicky’s staring, mouth open, at Sasha’s throat. He sinks down, grinding their erections together, making them both shudder. “Never, never mind.” His hips jerk again, and Sasha shivers. Holy fuck. “Let’s, let’s go for a personal record here, okay, fuck.” He crushes their mouths together and Sasha somehow, despite ninety-nine percent of his brain being completely useless right now, suddenly gets it.

“You never come three times in one night?” Nicky groans, which Sasha will take as confirmation. He rolls his hips. “Fuck, Backy, if I known you having bad sex all the time –” twice isn’t bad at all, but Sasha loves the way it riles Nicky up, makes him _bite_ , hell yes “– I do this _way_ sooner.”

“I hate you.” He’s rubbing himself shamelessly against Sasha now, oh my God. “I fucking, I hate you, you –”

“You don’t,” Sasha croons, kissing him again. “You love me, you know –”

“Oh _fuck!_ ” Nicky comes all over him without any warning. Sasha gasps, clinging to him as he shakes through it. He’s amazing. He’s incredible. _Nicky_. Nicky kisses him, messy and desperate, shoving a hand between them to stroke Sasha once, twice, and then Sasha comes, _finally_. Oh, holy shit. Holy shit.

He never wants to leave this bed.

He would like to be able to breathe, though. “Nicky.” He pokes him in the ribs. “Babe. Off.”

“Nngh.” Nicky slides sideways and flops onto his back, panting. Sasha follows him like he’s magnetic, curling up beside him. He’s struggling to keep his eyes open. Who knows what time it is, but it must be well into the early morning by now. He wouldn’t trade the last hour for anything, but God, he’s tired.

“We’re gonna beat them,” he mutters into Nicky’s chest. Nicky should know, it’s very important. “Fuck Bobrovsky. Don’t tell Dima I say.”

He has the novel experience of both feeling and hearing Nicky chuckle. “I won’t.” He sounds just as tired as Sasha feels. “I don’t think –” he yawns “– don’t think Orly cares right now.”

“He better not.” The silence unfurls, comfortable like a pillow. Sasha cranes around to look at Nicky. “You asleep?” Nicky’s eyes are closed, his hand lax in Sasha’s hair. He hums but doesn’t say anything. Sasha sighs and goes to sit up.

The hand in his hair tightens. “No,” Nicky whines.

“I’m just getting towel.” They’re both gross.

Nicky heaves a huge sigh and turns onto his side, tangling their legs together and slinging an arm over Sasha’s ribs. “Stay,” he mutters into Sasha’s neck. Well, okay then. Sasha strokes the nape of his neck and Nicky snores. He closes his eyes.


End file.
